Someone I Used to Know

chapter One

Adley


Beneath me, the United States slid past as quickly and platonically as someone scrolling over the page of a book they’d already read a million times. Tension clawed at my gut, and, not for the first time on the never-ending plane ride, I regretted not pocketing a few of Hannah’s anxiety pills. She’d never notice. Her side of the bedside table was stacked with a sampler of Xanax, Clonazepam, and whatever other meds she could convince herself and a doctor that she needed.

While I’d never been a fan of flying (there’s something about the logistics of being utterly helpless to control my surroundings that really doesn’t sit well with me), it wasn’t the main ingredient of the stew boiling through my nervous system. It had been a month since Cam’s phone call, and my obsession with acing finals had kept me from thinking of my looming summer plans.

It had crashed down on me with a vengeance the moment I secured my safety belt back in North Carolina, and remained even now as we circled LAX, minutes from landing.

“Is it your first time in California?” the boy who’d spent the flight one empty seat away asked, powering off the iPod that had been consistently humming through his ear buds. He looked young, probably still in high school, and definitely not old enough to be shooting me such flirty looks.

I sighed as my eyes fell back out the window.

“I’m from Pasadena.” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d shared something personal about my life, even such a minuscule detail. I told myself it was harmless. He was just some kid that I’d never see again.

It felt strange to speak of California as my home: half relief and half bubbling nausea. Ever since I’d fled, nearly four years earlier, I’d done everything in my power to put literal and metaphorical distance away from my past. I wanted to escape the life I’d had, the family I’d left behind, and most of all, the girl I’d been.

It was a door I didn’t plan on opening, despite my return. My parents still lived in Pasadena, and while it was just a short trip from there to LA, it was one they didn’t frequent. This town was big enough that they never even had to know I was here. Actually, if they’d heard Cam was back in town, Mr. and Mrs. Adair had probably moved cities, maybe even countries. I could only imagine how much they hated him.

“Yeah,” the boy agreed, giving me an appreciative once-over. His eyes jumped down my body, hitting the big three: blonde hair, pretty face, and nice rack. “I can definitely see the California girl in you.”

I rolled my eyes, not even the lure of a distraction could entice me into continuing that conversation. I fell back into silence, watching the world below race up to meet us.

As I slowly shuffled off the aircraft and through the airport, the drawer in my mind where I’d carefully locked away my feelings for Cam and what we’d gone through together rattled and shook, demanding attention. I hated how nervous I was. It was just Cam. I rallied together a hundred familiar memories of him, hoping to shame my emotions clean of their worthless anxiety. I was careful to steer clear of memories of before though. Before things had been so irreversibly changed between us.

I spotted him almost instantly as I rode down the escalator to the main floor. My eyes were drawn to him like a magnet finally finding its mate.

Happy reunions and weepy farewells exploded around me like fireworks, but I could only see him.

His honey-colored hair was shorter, cut into cleaner lines, and his jeans actually fit his lean hips for once. Both changes alluded to the money he had to spend on more frivolous things.

For a second, I was struck by the oddness of our role reversals. Cam was wearing designer clothes, living in California, and I was flying in from his hometown, dressed in clothes I’d slept in the night before.

I watched him, seeing the exact moment he picked me out of the moving cluster, his chocolate eyes coming to life. There was no hesitation as he strode forward to meet me. He stopped short, only a few steps shy of being able to embrace me, with a wide grin on his handsome face.

“What the f*ck are you wearing?” It had been three years, and he greeted me like I was his fraternity brother getting back from class.

And somehow, I still found myself smiling at the mirth in his warm eyes. I mean, I was wearing bright pink cotton shorts that had the audacity to flaunt little yellow rubber duckies. My plain white t-shirt was a safer choice, but I wasn’t dressing for fashion. My reasoning was simple. It didn’t matter how you looked boarding a plane, because everyone looked equally frazzled getting off. I’d simply learned to cut out the middleman.

“It’s college girl chic,” I deadpanned.

“Actually,” he said slowly, reclining slightly to take in the full picture of my long exposed legs, top-to-bottom and back again, “I think it’s growing on me.”

“Pervert.”

He chuckled, stepping forward to wrap my body in his arms. I sighed, and my entire being hummed with relaxation against him. I didn’t even lift my arms to return his affection. It felt so nice to be held. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d let someone get so close to me.

Usually, to be on hugging terms with people, you have to get to know them a little better than casual acquaintances, and ever since I’d left California, that’s all I’d had.

“I see your people skills haven’t improved.” His chin rested on top of my head. The sweet sigh in his voice clued me into his bravado. He was enjoying the contact just as much as me.

“Shut up,” I hushed. We were standing so close that my lips moved against the cloth of his shirt.

“Umm, excuse me?” a timid voice squeaked, leaving me no choice but to peel my body off his. It was a middle-aged woman dressed modestly in summer pastels and a truly fashionable fanny-pack. Her hands were extended towards Cam, presenting a hardback book that’s tasteful cover boasted The Girl in the Yellow Dress. “I don’t want to disturb you. I’m sure you get this all the time, but I really loved your book. Would you mind signing it for me?”

She flipped the back cover open, and Cam’s picture smiled happily up at us, dimples and all. The woman beamed proudly at him as he dutifully fulfilled her request.

“Adley reminded me a lot of my younger sister. Her choice was very brave. It’s good to see positive female characters making a return in literature.”

Cam eyed me covertly as he thanked the woman and wished her a good day, but all he found in my eyes was shock. The Girl in the Yellow Dress was big everywhere, not just LA, and I’d dealt with my fair share of uncomfortable moments when people questioned my name, but for the most part, I’d become an expert at blocking all the talk out. I just shut down at even the slightest mention, saving myself from hearing strangers discuss my life like they knew me or understood what I’d been through.

“Does that happen a lot?” I asked, managing to work my dry mouth as Cam led me over to the circling luggage conveyor.

“Less than you would think when you consider the way my publisher shoved me down the public’s throat during the last leg of the book tour.” Either he was trying very hard to seem nonchalant for my sake, or it actually wasn’t that big of a deal.

My nondescript duffle was one of the first pieces of luggage to come around, and I scooped it up easily before turning back to him and stepping away from the bustle of the other passengers.

“I had to borrow an SUV from the studio in preparation for all your luggage.” He snickered, his face lighting up with something I could only describe as endearment. “Point out the next one, and I’ll grab it for you. Do you think we need a cart?”

I tossed my bag over my shoulder. “This is it.”

“What was that?” he questioned, his face and tone doubtful. “I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

“I really hate that you further polluted the California air by borrowing a gas guzzler, because this one single bag,” I shook it for emphasis, “is the only thing I brought.”

He stared at me, confused and waiting on the punch line. When he realized I wasn’t trying to pull one over on him, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips dipped into a frown. He tried to overcompensate for the sudden change by talking loudly about his book tour as he led me to the black Range Rover waiting for us outside, but I wasn’t fooled. I wasn’t comfortable enough to push him about it though.

“How far is the drive to your house?” I asked as he maneuvered the large vehicle through interstate traffic.

“Oh, did I forget to mention?” He avoided my eyes, putting way too much focus on changing lanes. “We’ve got to stop by the studio for a minute before we get you settled into my place.”

“What?!” I was wearing my pajamas! My coworkers would never take me seriously. It was already bad enough that I was there. They probably thought I was some gold digger, trying to jump on their gravy train. Oh God, there were ducks on my shorts!

“Sorry, Addy.” Again with the nicknames when he wanted something. “We’ve been shooting a week, and it has been a freaking disaster. Today we found out that we can’t get a permit for one of our on-location shoots, and now I have to meet with the other writers to discuss a rewrite. It’ll take an hour at the most. I just have to get the list of other plausible options for the new locale.”

Whatever nostalgic cloud of warm fuzzies that had enveloped us in the newness of reuniting began to dissipate, and I was reintroduced to one of my least favorite qualities of Cam’s. He had no problem springing things on me last minute, knowing the later he waited to tell me, the less time he’d have to hear me complain. Knowing him so well, I understood his logic, but that didn’t mean I had to be okay with it. As unhappy as I was, there was nothing I really could do about it, and as much as I hated to admit it, his procrastination paid off.

I decided to make the most out of those few minutes of anger anyways, shooting him vicious glares as I punished him with silence.

The quiet would be what affected him the most. He hated silence. Cam liked to fill every moment with words. Sometimes, when I’d really, really decided that I hated him, I used to accuse him of being in love with his own voice, but at the end of the day (and when I cooled off a little) I understood it wasn’t just his words that he liked to hear. He loved to listen as well. It was one of the things I’d admired most.

By the time we arrived at the fenced in grouping of buildings where the studios logo was scrawled in giant crimson letters, I’d forgotten the reason for my silence, sitting back to take it all in.

I don’t know what I expected of a movie set, except for maybe that it would be a little more glamorous somehow. Flashing identification to the mountain of a man at the guard stand, entering through the back lot, and proceeding through another round of security – it was all just a little too procedural for my imagination. Besides the cameras, sets, and crafts table, it was just like any other work place. People were doing their jobs and minding their own business. No one was even particularly attractive.

I stopped in my tracks, leaving Cam to stride on without me. Realizing my absence when I didn’t laugh at one of his snarky comments, he backtracked to my side.

“I recognize that guy,” I explained my blatant stare. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the real reason the man sitting in a director’s chair across the room had caught my attention.

He was beautiful – uncommonly so – with dark brown hair and cheekbones that were every plastic surgeon’s dream. A woman fluttered about his hair, artfully crafting it into a messy masterpiece. He smiled genuinely at something she said. Even from where we were standing, I could make out the famous birthmark that decorated his jaw – small and inconspicuous – but somehow undeniably sexy.

Cam chuckled at my reaction. I hadn’t fooled him.

“I would hope so. The studio’s banking on him to bring in the big bucks from the ladies… Australian heartthrob and Indie movie extraordinaire, Declan Davies.”

“And he’s playing…?” I inquired, trying to assimilate myself with his handsome features.

Cam coughed and looked decidedly uncomfortable.

“You?” I burst out laughing. Cam was good looking on his own merit, but Declan Davies was in a league of his own, not to mention they really didn’t look a thing alike. Where Cam was honey, Declan was chocolate. “That’s a little egotistical don’t you think, Cam?”

“He’s not playing me. He’s playing a character in a movie.” His lips stuck together in a sour expression, and I felt a smidgen of guilt. Well, I did until he grabbed my arm and started dragging me towards Declan Davies with a sly grin on his face. “You should meet him actually. That’s kind of the whole reason you’re here.”

My entire body went clammy, and my feet felt heavy as I walked the slowest possible pace without looking like Cam was attempting to kidnap me.

I’d never really been into pop culture. In high school I’d always been too busy with ballet, and then, after The Girl in the Yellow Dress was released, it became impossible to escape its constant presence in the media, so I’d just avoided it altogether. I told myself that I wasn’t star struck by Declan Davies. I couldn’t possibly be one of those teeny boppers, screeching at the top of their lungs for some guy they’d never met. I just wasn’t expecting to be so…physically attracted to him.

He saw us coming, and stood to his full stance, even taller than Cam’s 6 feet, watching our approach with a calculating eye. The hairstylist disappeared, and it was just the three of us.

“Hey, mate.” His accent was sweet and pleasing to the ear. The boys shook hands and clasped each other on the back in the manly way that boys do, while I shifted my weight from foot to foot nervously. “Wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

“Rewrites,” Cam said with a shrug before yanking me forward to stand toe-to-toe with the Australian god. “I thought you might like to meet Adley Adair… She was just telling me what a big fan she is.”

I stumbled over my feet before I managed to right myself, and let’s just say that if looks could kill, Cam would be dead and resurrected for the sole purpose of me killing him again.

Famous gray eyes poured critically from my messy hair all the way down to settle on my wrinkled rubber ducky shorts.

“You’re not nearly what I was expecting,” he observed unsmiling.

I imagined I was quite different than the Adley Adair painted in The Girl in the Yellow Dress. That Adley had been pristinely kept with sharp, blonde hair, highlighted to perfection and cut into a fashionable style that sat – never a hair out of place – above her shoulders. She’d had the body of a ballerina, like a willow tree; lithe, elegant, thin.

I was the Adley Adair of after. My hair had grown into its natural shade of dark blonde, and it reached far down my back in unkempt waves. The only time it got a cut was when I had enough time to drop by UNC’s beautician school for a free one, and it hadn’t seen color since I’d left my family and money back in California.

“Funny. You’re even more charming than I was expecting.” I tried to bite back the snarky comment, but it was too late, leaving me with no choice but to own it proudly with my chin held high.

I glared at Cam as he stomped on my foot, all the while trying to cover up his own snort of laughter. Cam had no one to blame but himself for my rudeness. I was jetlagged and unprepared for interactions with celebrities.

“A sarcastic American…how original,” he replied with a fair amount of his own Australian sarcasm. A smirk flirted with his full lips. There was no mistaking it as friendly. As charismatic as Declan Davies came across on the big screen, it was clear that he was a hell of better actor than I’d ever given him credit for.

“Wow, and that’s coming from an arrogant actor.” Heat rushed into my cheeks, but I kept my jab as light and flippant as he did.

“Girls, girls, you’re both pretty,” Cam cut in, tugging me away from the pretty boy before I could break his face. “Now, look, here comes Madeline.”

“Who?” Unlike Declan Davies, I didn’t recognize the girl he pointed out entering the warehouse-like building they called a soundstage. She was tiny – pocket size, really – with dark, auburn hair and pretty, if not exaggerated, features.

“Madeline Little,” Cam explained in a hushed voice as she finally spotted the three of us staring at her. When I continued to look lost, he elbowed me and whispered, “She just graduated from the Mouse’s starlet factory. This is her first serious role. She’s playing you.”

Apparently, Declan Davies was simply playing a role in a movie, but Madeline Little was me. I wanted to return the foot stomp, but unfortunately, the young actress locked onto me. Her sharp eyes had jumped from Cam to me with precision, and I had no doubt that she’d just pinned me for exactly who I was. Her gaze was fierce and her stride, powerful. She was clearly on a mission.

She was wearing a strange, shapeless, blue gown, and her face was peppered with a sweaty gleam.

Surely, hair and make-up could do better than that. She looked sickly, and her venomous glare at anyone who crossed her path wasn’t helping. Behind her, she was trailed by a school of fish, each member of the group had at least ten years on their leader.

Madeline halted in front of me and her entourage swarmed at her back. Two of them were on cell phones and one poured over a thick stack of papers, leaving only a large, exotic man to pay attention to me. And I was getting the distinct impression that he was mostly sizing me up.

“Okay, quick –,” Madeline Little demanded as she stared at me with unblinking boldness. “– Tell me what it’s like to give birth.”

I reeled away from her like she’d slapped me in the face. She might as well have. For three years I’d done everything in my power to forget the experience, and this girl, who didn’t even have the decency to introduce herself to me, blurts it out like having a baby was the equivalent to an exciting vacation in Cabo or an interesting experience at The Cheesecake Factory.

I was paralyzed under the weight of all the eyes that suddenly turned towards me.

They all knew. It was all I could think. Everyone knew, and they were all staring at me.

No, thank you!

I turned, and power-walked to the closest exit.

The California sun blinded me when I exploded out of the dim soundstage, and I shielded my eyes, stumbling over to an isolated spot around the corner. It took less than a minute for Cam to find me.

He faced me where I was leaning against the wall, and silently observed me, probably factoring my current mood into what he could do or say right now without getting snapped at.

“This was a bad idea,” I cut off his calculations, sucking down husky gulps of air. “I shouldn’t have come.”

“I never thought I’d see the day when Madeline Little was out drama queened.” He shook his head with exaggerated disbelief.

“Drama queened? You should ask for a refund on that English degree,” I snapped. How come he wasn’t jumping to my defense? He should be outraged right along with me! I didn’t care how famous Madeline Little was, that was just plain rude.

He grinned at my slight.

“Just because you haven’t read the book doesn’t mean you can block out everything that happened, Ads. You had to know coming into this that your pregnancy would be a part of the film. Madeline wasn’t throwing it in your face. They’re filming some of the birthing scene today.”

Well, that explained Madeline’s cruddy appearance. Although, I’d like to have had a word with the director if he really thought a little fake sweat could simulate a woman in labor. It wasn’t nearly that pretty.

I let out an aggravated snort.

There was no escaping the fact that I’d invited the world into my secrets, but until the moment Madeline Little had shoved reality in my face, the Adley Adair that had given birth as a scared teenager had been nothing but a character locked inside of Cam’s book.

“Need I remind you that it was you who insisted on the use of our real names if I published?” Cam reminded, raising a pointed eyebrow.

My eyes cast downward. I really wasn’t looking to get into the psychology of that decision on top of everything else, so I kept my mouth shut.

When my shoulders slumped, he knew he’d won, and I let him pull me off the wall like someone scrapping gum off the bottom of their shoe. I was just as reluctant as the gum.

“Cheer up, Addy!” he encouraged, holding me close to his side as we walked away. “After a quick chat with the director, we don’t have to be back here until Monday!”

I frowned. Somehow two days didn’t seem like much of a reprieve at all.